


An Enemies to Lovers Kiss

by cozywilde



Series: Smoochtober [15]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hackers, Alternate Universe - Police, Chases, Handcuffs, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 09:48:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21052373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cozywilde/pseuds/cozywilde
Summary: Senkar's luck really seems to be running low today.





	An Enemies to Lovers Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU of these usually D&D boys, where [Senkar](https://toyhou.se/3281147.senkar) the assassin is a hacker, and [Cyrus](https://toyhou.se/3870644.cyrus) the bartender is a rookie police officer trying to catch him.

Senkar ducks down an alley, laughing all the way. His laptop bag banging against his back as he runs is only a mild distraction; he’s just hoping nothing falls out to leave a breadcrumb-like trail behind him given how hastily he’d packed it. 

It really was just his luck to be in the one coffee shop the good Officer Cyrus happened to walk into. The _ one _cop who was sure to recognize him on sight. 

Senkar laughs again, remembering the look on his face - surprise plus disbelief plus irritation, like how _ dare _Senkar interrupt his morning routine. Not that this was really routine - Senkar knows for a fact which coffee place he usually frequents each morning, and had deliberately chosen a different one. 

He can at least be sure Cyrus hadn’t tracked him down somehow. He isn’t _ nearly _enough of an actor to fake surprise that well, and those precious frozen seconds of shock had allowed Senkar to stow his things and dash out the back door of the coffee shop. 

Senkar _ is _ sure that Cyrus is still in pursuit, though he’s never been much of a runner, so Senkar isn’t that worried. He bounds atop a crate, grabs the bottom edge of a fire escape, and swings to vault over a brick wall blocking off this half of the alley. He lands lightly and casts a satisfied look behind him - _ good luck with that one, Cyrus _\- before he jogs on. 

He cuts through another few alleys on his way just in case, though. Once he’s satisfied, he slips out onto a quieter street, almost bumping into a group of men in sharply-tailored suits. 

“Hey, watch it,” he says, with only mild indignation since he’s probably mostly responsible. The guy grunts in a way that says he agrees, then suddenly refocuses in a way Senkar distinctly does not like. 

“Boss!” the guy says, grabbing one of the straps of Senkar’s bag. 

“What the fuck!” Senkar snarls, then quiets as he gets a better look at the man - the boss - standing between the other two. He recognizes him - the owner of a company that had been the subject of one of Senkar’s very first hacks, back when he’d been less careful about hiding his name and face. 

“Can’t we let bygones be bygones?” Senkar wheedles, twisting in the bodyguard’s grip. 

“Fifty million is hardly a bygone,” the boss says, and motions to his guards. 

Senkar doesn’t know what that motion means but he doesn’t particularly want to find out. He deftly twists out of the straps of his bag - it’s only one laptop, and he can remotely destroy the drive once he’s safe - and sprints back down the alley he came from. 

He isn’t laughing this time. The worst Officer Cyrus can do is arrest him - these guys, he’s pretty sure, are after something a little more permanent than that. He topples trash cans and stacked boxes in his wake, making it as difficult as possible for them, running all out in what he hopes is an unpredictable pattern. His worst fear right now is that he’s going to get lost himself, taking a wrong turn into a dead-end alley. He turns a corner and sees that same wall he’d vaulted before. Of course, there are no helpful crates on this side. 

Senkar groans. Luck really isn’t on his side today. He can hear rapid footsteps approaching, and so he runs at the wall, using his momentum to jump up and throw himself over the top. 

The landing is less than graceful. Senkar tries to roll but collides with someone in a tangle of arms and legs and swearing. Pushing himself up, his apology dies on his lips when he meets Cyrus’ familiar icy blue eyes. 

“I surrender,” Senkar says promptly. 

Cyrus blinks, though he does automatically grab Senkar’s wrist. “You… what?” 

“I _ surrender, _ you can arrest me, but only if we go _ now,_” Senkar snaps. He clambers off of Cyrus, tugging the officer to his feet too. 

“He jumped over, I saw him!” comes a voice from the other side of the wall. 

“Is someone _ after you_?” Cyrus demands. 

Senkar rolls his eyes, still tugging at Cyrus’ hand to get him moving. “Yes, now let’s _ go!” _

“Fine, just -” Cyrus pushes both of Senkar’s wrists into one of his hands, the other grabbing his handcuffs from his belt. 

“Seriously? I turned myself in,” Senkar protests, but he lets Cyrus do it, not wanting to hold them up any longer. Cyrus does at least cuff his hands in front of him, saving him some gymnastics later. 

“I’m not taking any chances with you, you’ve slipped out of custody enough times before,” Cyrus says, though his rough tone has a touch of apology to it. He pushes Senkar through the back door of the coffee shop and they both duck down just in time for two pairs of feet to hit the pavement outside. There’s a brief, muffled conversation, and then the two pursuers continue down the alley. 

“They’re persistent,” Senkar warns, and Cyrus nods. 

“You’ll be safe down at the station,” he says, unhooking his radio from his belt. “I’ll get a squad car down here -”

Senar smacks the radio out of his hand. “No radio. They’re probably listening for any reports that sound like me.” 

Cyrus glares as he crouches to pick up the radio. “Who the fuck did you piss off so bad?” he grumbles, but he does put the radio back on his belt. “Fine then, we’ll take my truck.” 

“Can’t we just -”

“Hole up at my place so you can climb out the window?” Cyrus finishes for him. “No. You’re going straight to the station. Also, you have the right to remain silent…”

Senkar listens semi-patiently to the whole speech, if only because he knows Cyrus will just start the whole damn thing over again if he interrupts. “Can we go already?” 

“_Yes, _ we can go, forgive me for informing you of your rights,” Cyrus says. After a moment’s consideration, he shrugs out of his jacket and folds it over Senkar’s hands, hiding the cuffs. He nods to himself, then squints. “Didn’t you have a bag?” 

“Well spotted, they took it. Gonna help me file a report down at the station?” 

Cyrus snorts, _ finally _taking Senkar’s arm to lead him back through the coffee shop. “Sure thing, you can dictate to me through the bars of the holding cell.”

“Ha ha,” Senkar says dryly. Both of them focus as they look outside, checking for anyone out of place. Seeing no one, Cyrus leads Senkar across the street to a black truck, presumably his. He opens the back door for Senkar, flipping on the child locks with a pointed look before he crosses around to the driver’s seat. 

Senkar buckles himself in - it’s a bit awkward with the cuffs on, but he manages - and then sinks low in the seat, hopefully keeping his bright silver hair out of sight. Cyrus nods at him in the rearview, then pulls into traffic. 

The drive is mostly quiet. Senkar wriggles his phone out of pocket to fry the drive on the stolen laptop, thankfully managing it before Cyrus notices and brakes hard, sending the phone tumbling out of his hands to clatter on the floor. 

“The _ fuck _do you think you’re doing?” 

“Getting in a last game of solitaire,” Senkar says sweetly. “Your fault for not patting me down, _ officer._” 

Cyrus growls, but after someone lays on the horn behind them, starts driving again with a rude gesture out the window. 

Soon they pull up to the station, and Senkar can’t help the slight thrill of nerves at seeing so many police cars. Still, he manages to sit quietly as Cyrus puts the truck in park and walks around - though he does quickly snatch up his phone and tuck it into his boot. 

The door clicks open, and Senkar smoothly turns the motion into fumbling with his seatbelt. Cyrus sighs and reaches across him, nudging his hands away to deal with the buckle himself. At the same moment it clicks open, Senkar deftly unhooks Cyrus’ keys from his belt with only the slightest jingle. 

“Thank you,” Senkar says, and Cyrus freezes halfway through leaning away. 

He shrugs awkwardly. “It was just a seatbelt.” 

“No, for…” Senkar lowers his voice, encouraging Cyrus to lean in further again to hear him. “For helping me out. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there.” He twists his fingers, a nervous gesture that covers the flash of silver as he fits the key into the handcuffs. 

Cyrus flushes, glancing away. “Don’t think this gratitude stuff means I’m not bringing you in.” 

“Of course not,” Senkar agrees, and kisses him. 

Cyrus’ mouth is half-open in surprise, making it easy for Senkar to deepen the kiss. When he does, Cyrus gives a low moan, Senkar shivering as the sound runs through him. He nibbles at Cyrus’ lip, provoking a delicious rumble in his chest that Senkar can’t resist putting a hand on to feel. 

Cyrus stiffens, eyes flashing down to Senkar’s notably handcuff-free hand. 

“Oops,” Senkar says, and shoves him backwards. Cyrus swears as he hits the pavement ass-first, and Senkar throws himself out of the truck, running the moment his feet hit the ground. To his surprise there are no shouts of alarm, and he chances a look back as he’s rounding the corner. 

Cyrus stands by the open door of his truck, looking after him with the oddest expression - not anger, not even betrayal, but - disappointed. Hurt. Senkar’s surprised, and even more surprised that he cares. His smirk at outsmarting him twists into a frown, but he can’t go back, _ can’t _be trapped in a cell. 

He mouths _ I’m sorry _across the noise and traffic separating them, and vainly hopes Cyrus can tell he means it.


End file.
